


The Mystery of Sene

by Viking_woman



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Solas is a mess, Solo!Solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 00:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viking_woman/pseuds/Viking_woman
Summary: After losing Wisdom, Solas meets and travels with a couple of Dalish brothers, but Solas' thoughts return to Sene Lavellan, and how he needs her.Solas as he appears inThe Dead Season.A birthday present for my dear friendgaladrieljones.





	The Mystery of Sene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galadrieljones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galadrieljones/gifts).



> This takes place before [TDS.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7468581/chapters/16972533) begins, but contains vague spoilers for [ chapter 27, Pieces of Solas ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7468581/chapters/19130083), and some for the general background for Gala’s Solas.

The daytime exertion quiets his thoughts. The hunting, the walking, the menial tasks on the road. It is hard work, and he uses almost no magic. The company, the Dalish brothers, is quiet, and so are his thoughts. There is no need to talk and for this he is grateful. For the quiet and the work and the way it calms his mind.

At night he still dreams. Not of Wisdom or the past. Not of well known places in the fade, and not of new places. There are no curious spirits to guide him.

He dreams of her. Sene. Every morning he has to shake the thoughts of her, he has to snap back into the present. The road and the tent and the dust and the fire. She is all his mind latches on to, and at night she is everywhere, glimpses and pieces. Tall, red, fast, pretty.

He yearns to return to her. He thinks, he maybe shouldn’t, but he belongs nowhere, and he dreams of her. He accepts the way she is hooked inside of him, like a piece of his soul stuck to her.

He comes to expect the dreams, of her and her presence, her laugh, her hair, the sound of her voice. Sene. Sene. Sene. He wakes up and he scrambles to hold on to reality. He can deal with this. He will see her soon enough.

They travel, and they eat, and they sleep, and he dreams, and slowly he gets closer to Skyhold.

Another dream of her is no surprise, but this one is different. They sit and talk on a table in Haven. This is not ethereal feelings, no kaleidoscope of movement and scenes. The grain of wood is rough under his fingertips. It is snowing, and the snowflakes get caught in Sene’s hair. Her freckles glow in the cold air. _I like you Solas_ , she says, and it is almost a revelation, though he already knew this. He has known. _I miss you_ , she says, and it sounds like a secret, like a punch to his gut.  

It is not actually Sene, in the fade. He knows this. But it could be her. He doesn’t know what she will say when he gets back. Does she really miss him? Maybe she will say something very different. He doesn’t know, and this makes him miss her more. She leans in and kisses him, her lips soft against his.

He is hard, aching, when he wakes. He can almost trace the scent of her, impossibly new across his senses. His erection strains against his pants.

It is nothing new, sometimes he wakes like this. Bodies act like bodies and there is no mystery there. He usually ignores it and it goes away. But not today. He twists, and he can still feel her lips on his. The mystery of Sene, real in his tent. She isn’t here, but she is so deep inside of him, like a well. 

He reaches down to adjust his hardness. Dawn is far away, and he should sleep, but as soon as his fingers touch himself, he groans and he arches up, seeking the friction of his own hand.

He draws it back. He is not a desperate youth, hiding in his room while his mother sings flowers into bloom in her garden.

He stares at the tent, into the darkness.

He is still hard.

She kissed him, fast, that one time in the fade. He wants to put his hands in her hair.

His hand falls back to his groin, above the blanket. He wants to lift his hips, to rut against his it, to feel the sharp delirious roughness.

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t think of her like this, not when he is undecided, though he truly can’t say he is anymore. There are other reasons he shouldn’t, but they are far away, hidden deep in the edges of his consciousness.  His fists clench the blankets at his side.

He shouldn’t. He is empty and not empty inside. He belongs nowhere. Yet he dreams, and he knows he is returning to her, eager.  He wonders how her lips would feel. He already knows, but he doesn’t know. He wants the knowledge deep in his bones.

How would it feel to exist inside of her? He shouldn’t. But his hand is once more heavy against his erection, creating the friction he wants, the pressure he craves.

_Show me something._

Her eyes are wide and laughing. An easy happiness. A mystery. She is too close, and it is too much. Someone else is far, and there is a loss, a hole, and he doesn’t even know what is on the bottom. He doesn’t want to keep digging. Maybe if he throws in a seed it will grow, a tall strong tree.

Sene is tall and this, too, is new.

He sighs, and he slides his hand under his clothes, into his pants. He will get no rest tonight until he takes care of this. He shouldn’t, but he will, and he traces his finger from the root to the tip of his cock. His hips buck, and he bites his lip. All the reasons he shouldn’t do this flies away like birds, dark wings leaving his mind to the brightness of his own touch.

He is urgent, his mind settled and his body curious. A physical need, fit for the physical existence and labors of the days. He pushes down his pants, he pulls back the blanket.

In his dream, she was close, her skin under his lips. His hand grips his cock. He relaxes his grip, a gentle tease. Would she be curious, or would she be bold? He doesn’t know, but he wants to. He wants to hold her face in his hands and kiss her breathless. He wants to run his fingers through her hair, he wants to push her shirt off her shoulders.

He wonders how she would touch him. Slow, questioning? Fast, brash, confident? He doesn’t know, and the unknown is a fire inside of him. He wants to learn these pieces of Sene, but for now he enjoys that he doesn’t know. The newness he didn’t expect. Like a summer breeze. His hand moves a bit faster, and he closes his eyes. His dream is still has hold of him, how she leaned closed to him, how she kissed him.

Like the one kiss he shared with her in fade, fueling his fantasy, stuck in his mind. Soft lips. Her skin would be soft too, and he wonders if her freckles are found on her chest, on breasts, on her thighs.

He lets go of his cock to lick his hand, from the heel of his palm to the tips of his fingers. When his hand returns, the spit mixes with the precum gathered at the tip, and he grips himself firmly, high around the head, pulling back his foreskin as his hand works up and down his cock. It feels good, to give in. His body needs this, his mind demands it. It is freeing to give in, to let go, the sensations overwhelming.

He wonders how it would feel to let go with her, to really feel her. Sene. Sene. Sene. How she would feel, letting go, flying apart around him. Would she be loud? Quiet? Would she want to sit on top of him? Would she want him to hold her and cover her? His mind flashes from one idea to next, seeing her undone and naked and his.

Solas bites his lips to prevent a load groan, as his hand moves faster, as his fist tighten. He runs his other hand over his chest, down his stomach, cupping his balls. It is so good, so right, to just feel. He needs this, his reality hard and unyielding, soft and needy – lost in her. He comes, fast and messy and real, his spend hot on his belly. He falls back into himself, her name on his lips.

He feels light as he cleans himself. There is no regret, just longing. He needs to get back to Skyhold.

 


End file.
